No One's Fault but Mine
by the-kings-tail-fin
Summary: In a universe where Doc is still alive when McQueen crashes, the old Hornet struggles to cope with the sight of history repeating itself.


"Kid, listen, I know what you're feelin'. It ain't worth - "

"No. No!"

Doc looked on in worry, unsure if Lightning was speaking directly to him or not. Lightning had never before so belligerently cut him off in the middle of being coached through a race. Even as his season took a turn for the worse, he'd never taken his frustration out on his crew chief.

"No!" Lightning's voice was growing louder through the headset, and ever more frantic.

"Kid - Lightning! Listen to me - " Doc reverted to a stern tone, unable to convey his concern any other way.

But it was too late. Time slowed to a crawl as the Hudson Hornet watched his protege lose grip on the track and slam into the outer wall. Sparks were flying and shrapnel sprayed the asphalt as Lightning went airborne across the pavement and began to roll.

The world around Doc turned silent despite the screeching of shearing metal mere yards away. Suddenly he wasn't a crew chief anymore. He was back on the dirt. And it wasn't a younger red racer rolling across the track, it was an old blue coupe that had lost control in the sand.

Doc was caught in between two piercing realities. He saw himself wreck. He _felt_ himself wreck. He'd spent sixty years trying to forget the pain of his past, and this one moment brought everything back. But this time, it was much, much worse.

It was worse because it wasn't him. Lightning finally rolled to a stop in the field before him, pulling Doc back to the present. He stared at the only car he ever dared to openly discuss his past with, laying there, unconscious on the dirt and the grass. None of it felt real. His first instinct was to panic.

He looked down at the crew. Sally and Mater were already gone, rushing out towards McQueen. Doc remembered his role on the team and tried to control his impulses as a few of the others took off, only to be blockaded by emergency staff. Dread crept through his frame like a cold desert wind as he listened to the sirens of the medics blare through his now static filled headset.

"No." Doc muttered under his breath, backing off of his perch.

Things were happening around him, but he paid no attention to anyone or anything as he approached the scene. This wasn't right. Lightning wasn't supposed to have to go through this. He wasn't supposed to suffer the same fate the Fabulous Hudson Hornet did.

Doc's mind began to wander. Was this his fault? Was all the training and time spent together meant to end like this? Was it all some obscure, sick pattern the universe followed that caused tragedies like this?

 _No, don't think like that._ Doc disciplined himself. _Crashing is a part of racing. It's got nothing to do with you._

But it did. It had everything to do with him. As crew chief, it was his job to help Lightning achieve his maximum potential, even in times of stress and hardship. This was no exception.

He looked around. The paramedics were gingerly lifting the racer off the ground and into the back of an ambulance. Sally was trying her hardest not to break down and cry in front of everyone, but failing. Mater was so visibly worried he stayed perfectly silent and still. Even the stadium itself had a feel of caution to it.

Doc started to follow the ambulance as it pulled away, only to be stopped by another member of the emergency response team. They said something about giving the doctors time to examine and operate if need be. They needed space to do their job. The old timer felt a flame ignite inside of him and forcibly pushed his way past. He had a doctorate. He was qualified to help. And he made sure they all knew it, too.

He approached the tent, eager to get inside and get a better idea of how much damage there was. If he could at least determine the kid would be alright, he'd be content. But he found himself slowing down as he neared the entrance, coming to a complete stop right outside.

He couldn't do it. The sound of saws and power tools echoed from the far reaches of the tent. It was all out of his control. Even if he could help, he didn't think he could bear the sight of seeing his closest friend in shambles. He was too emotionally tied to Lightning.

Doc sat there and listened, hoping to pick up on anything the doctors were saying. There was too much background noise and eventually he gave up on listening, continuing to silently wait, lost in the wells of his own mind. Sally and Mater drove up and parked on either side of him, and despite their own worries, started asking if he was okay.

He didn't know, and they didn't press the issue. All they could do was wait.


End file.
